


A Gift

by sweet_fa (h_d)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Erotica, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Office Sex, Other, POV First Person, Porn with Feelings, Purple Prose, Writing Exercise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 16:03:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3416873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h_d/pseuds/sweet_fa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was written for the following prompt:  Write an intimate scene that does not reveal the characters' genders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Gift

**Author's Note:**

> Please take that "purple prose" tag seriously!

"Chris, this is Mac. You'll be working together on this project," John told me. 

I had been anticipating this moment, but at the sight of me, Mac was taken by surprise. As I reached for a handshake, I recognized shock in those warm brown eyes, but it was quickly replaced with a playful desire. There was nothing businesslike about the handshake at all. Instead, strong fingers curled around mine in a caress, and my breath caught in my throat. John didn't notice a thing.

I watched Mac's face, the familiar pink tongue darting out to lick dry lips in a habitual nervous gesture. I bowed my head. Mac was just as gorgeous as I remembered. 

I hadn't engineered this second meeting; it was only a series of coincidences. John had contracted Mac's company, and they'd chosen to send Mac. I'd only learned about it a few days ago myself.

We took our seats on opposite sides of the boardroom table. John was speaking in front of the whiteboard, but the other voices in the room faded as I locked gazes with Mac. 

Since I'd learned I'd be seeing Mac again, I'd pondered the most discreet and direct way for us to be together. Yesterday, I scouted out the boardroom and came up with a plan. Now, I looked deliberately at the closet door, then back. I rested my elbow on the table, cupped my chin in my hand, and raised an eyebrow, challenging. In return, I received a slow blink, an almost imperceptible nod, and—oh—the reward of pale cheeks coloring pink.

Only the top button of the crisp white shirt was undone, but it was enough to expose a long, unblemished neck and a delicate collarbone. I wanted to kiss it; I wanted to suck and bite it and mark it as my own again. 

I traced my fingertip over my lips. Mac's blush deepened, and I knew that the color was spreading all the way to the tips of the long toes I had once sucked into my mouth, one by one, earning myself uncharacteristically high-pitched laughter. I imagined Mac feeling the heat of that blush as it traveled everywhere, and I was thrilled to know that I was as irresistible as the object of my desire. 

When we met at the conference last summer, it was only an hour before I had Mac spread out beneath me in my hotel bed. For months, the memories of our few days together had been a sweet torment. I didn't think I'd ever have another experience like what we'd shared, and I yearned to repeat it.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. Five minutes until everyone else left, until my senses could feast on that perfect body again. I remembered the sound of that elegant voice begging for more, the feeling of all that smooth skin under my hands, the delicious taste of Mac on my tongue. Even more satisfying was the first moment when Mac was so overcome with need for me that I found myself pinned to the bed, trapped between well-muscled legs, that glorious ass resting on my thighs as Mac ravaged my lips with kisses and tugged at my hair.

When Mac first approached me, I had instantly noticed the tan line from a wedding ring. I was disappointed, but I didn't let the knowledge that Mac belonged to someone else ruin our chance at pleasure. That first night, after we brought each other release several times and cuddled close to sleep, I touched the place where the ring was usually worn, asking a question without words.

Short brown hair brushed my face as with a simple headshake, Mac said no; it seemed the subject wasn't up for discussion. I buried my face in that hair and breathed in the scent of sweat and shampoo, attempting to commit it to memory. But I couldn't call it to mind now. I wanted another try.

It felt like forever until the meeting came to a close. John and the others peered at both of us curiously as they left and we remained, but neither of us said anything. When the last person had filed out, I rushed to the door and locked it, then reached for Mac's hand. I opened the closet door and pulled Mac in behind me.

I turned and kissed soft lips. I wanted to suck and devour from the first moment, but I reined in my desire with a great effort and slowly sucked the lush bottom lip between my own. Without looking away from Mac's eyes, I unbuttoned the expensive shirt and reached inside, squeezing a nipple roughly between my fingers. Mac gasped. 

"I didn't think I'd see you again," I managed to say, my voice shaking and exposing the depth of my emotions, though I hoped I could trust Mac to understand.

"I know," Mac whispered, dropping light, adoring kisses to my face, then cradling it tenderly and pressing our foreheads together. I felt the cold metal of the wedding band against my cheek, and again I wished desperately that Mac was mine.

I cupped Mac's ass in my hands and pulled our bodies together, but after only a moment of sweet friction, Mac's hips drew away from my own. I feared I'd moved too fast, that this encounter would be over before it really began, until I felt hands at my waist, undoing my belt. The touch grew frantic, struggling to undo the buttons and zipper of my pants, and I gently pushed those hands aside and did it myself, pulling my pants and underwear down around my knees.

Mac immediately dropped to both knees and pressed a hungry mouth to me. I cried out, forgetting where we were, but even if I'd remembered, I wouldn't have cared. Mac's skill was extraordinary, sucking, licking, spiraling that tongue in tighter and tighter circles. It was an obscene, passionate kiss, meant to bring me to orgasm as quickly as possible—but in contrast, Mac's fingers stroked across my stomach tenderly. Mac was so special to me, like no one I'd ever known. No one else had ever made me feel so desired, so treasured. 

When Mac stopped abruptly, I looked down, ready to plead in every way I could. Instead, fingers disappeared for a second between lips now stained a bright red from their strain, and they emerged glistening with saliva. The mouth returned to me, and Mac thrust inside me, curling fingertips expertly in just the way that I loved. I braced my hands on the wall behind me and rocked my hips rhythmically, seeking more, always more. 

I felt as though I could always be here, in this private heaven, if only Mac never stopped—

But my body reached its limit, and the moment ended, as it had to. I exploded in ecstasy, pulsing and shivering, my fingers and toes curling involuntarily. My hands scrabbled for purchase on the smooth paint of the wall and found none. I felt adrift, free, but afraid, like a ship without a compass. Mac could have done anything to me in that moment. But I was safe; the fingers withdrew, and two strong hands steadied my hips.

"Thank you," I breathed out.

"Yes," said Mac, nuzzling my thigh. I petted that beloved head, and earned myself a hum of deep contentment. I wished that I could say more. But if I spoke the truth aloud, that this meant everything to me, that my heart had been empty all this time since we'd parted—if I staked a claim of any kind—I feared Mac would turn away. 

I didn't know why Mac's touch was so reverent that it always felt like we were making love, even though we were virtually strangers. I guessed it might just be Mac's nature, but to me, that didn't make the affection between us any less real. Perhaps there was a spouse who heard of all these adventures and approved, or who mistreated Mac in some way. I hoped that our encounters were simply erotic bedtime tales for a faceless wife or husband, because the mere thought of anyone harming or even neglecting Mac, who loved so generously—well, it was too awful of an idea to contemplate. 

I had never come up with any other explanation beyond those two. I simply couldn't believe that Mac was amoral, seeking pleasure for its own sake without regard for the feelings of others. 

In truth, I didn't care. Mac's love, in any form, was a precious gift. I got down on the floor to remove all of those clothes, to unwrap this gift and give praise and thanks again and again, with my words and my body, for as long as I was allowed.

**Author's Note:**

> Another way to write this would be to use gender-neutral pronouns; I may try that in the future. My intention is that either or both of the characters can be interpreted as male, female, or nonbinary. Hopefully, it works!
> 
> I hope anyone who stumbles across this has as much fun reading it as I did writing it.


End file.
